


You Were Born on the Earth

by Joiealiza



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joiealiza/pseuds/Joiealiza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Shot: Groot and Rocket have a talk before parting ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Born on the Earth

     The sun was warm. It made Groot’s tough skin feel soft and tender. All over his back little sprouts popped up, stretching their tiny green leaves towards the light.

     Groot let them be. Normally he might have groomed himself but today he didn’t have the drive to kill anything. Instead, he ran his long fingers over the grass, chuckling softly as little white flowers grew and opened their petals under them.

     “You’ve always been so sentimental! They’re just flowers, you dumb tree-,“ Rocket’s familiar drawl was cut off by a racking cough that shuddered through his small body.

     Groot turned towards his old friend, his craggy mouth twisting into a frown of concern. He tried to steady the convulsing body, but Rocket slapped his hand away.

     “I’m fine.”

     But the raccoon wasn’t fine. His silvery fur was dull and patchy. His ears and nose – once so keen and sharp – were tattered and scarred and could not serve him as they had. Even his toothless mouth could no longer curl around the snarls and sardonic words that had graced them for so long and the eyes that had once glittered with mirth were now grey and barely responsive. But perhaps worst of all was the twisted back that had finally caved in to the torture inflicted upon it twenty long years ago.

     “ _I_ am Groot.”

     “I _am_ fine! Sure, I’m a walking skeleton, but I’m _fine_. At least I’m not busting a gut over some stupid flowers. I’m not that far gone. Yet.”

     Groot didn’t know what to say. He had done his very best to keep Rocket in good health but there was nothing that could stop death forever. Groot’s best friend was dying and there was no reason to pretend it wasn’t happening.

     As he had so many times this past year, Groot was suddenly wracked by guilt. Three times he had died only to be nurtured back from a small twig to full growth. Rocket had been there every time to bring him back but it didn’t work the same way with animals. Groot couldn’t plant Rocket and restore him to health.

     “I always thought I’d go out fighting, you know?” Rocket was curled on his side with his eyes closed, too weak to even tuck his tail around himself.

     “I _am_ Groot.”

     Rocket’s laugh came out as a dry, rasping hiss. “Don’t make fun of dying people, termite-brain. Just ‘cause we’re about to kick it, don’t mean we don’t have feelings!”

     “I am Groot.”

     “ _I_ always had feelings! I let you tag along, didn’t I? Bleeding sap-heart…” Rocket’s voice trailed off into coughs again, this time too violent to allow him to stop Groot from cradling his small head and wiping away the blood that sprayed from his mouth.

     “But, seriously,” Rocket whispered hoarsely as the coughs finally subsided, “I never really bothered to think about getting old and dying ‘cause I’d always assumed that I’d never last that long. Somehow, all the bullets missed me.

     “I wish one would’ve hit me, though,” he continued after a moment. “A quick, clean death with a gun in my hand and units in my pocket would be bliss compared to this shit. I should have made you shoot me before it came to this…”

    “I am _Groot_.”

    “Well, if _you_ wouldn’t have, I’m sure I could’ve gotten Drax-“

    “ _I am Groot_.”

    “Alright, alright, if it bothers you so much…”

     They sat in silence for some time; Rocket breathing shallowly, his snout twitching in pain every once in a while and Groot watching the flowers grow with one eye and Rocket with the other.

     When Rocket finally spoke, his voice was so soft Groot almost missed it.

     “I’m glad I had a friend, you know. One person who can look back on me with fondness once I’m gone. It’s nice to know that not everyone will hate my memory or whatever.”

     Groot blinked and looked down at his feet for a moment, touched to the very core. Rocket was more than a friend; he was the one person who had taken the time to understand the mangled words that issued from Groot’s stiffened larynx.

     “I… am Groot.”

     Rocket cracked open one eye and smiled – not a sarcastic sneer but a real, warm smile. “Well, someone had to translate for you otherwise they’d all think you’re an idiot. Which you are, but… you’re not dumb.”

     Groot picked up Rocket and cradled the frail body in his arms. The raccoon muttered a few weak protests but soon closed his eyes and rested his head against Groot’s craggy chest. Groot stroked the still-soft place behind Rocket’s ear with one finger and droned a monotonous little song.

     Groot wasn’t exactly sure when Rocket stopped breathing. He had gotten wrapped up in his song and was starting to feel proud of his little creation when he realized that the body in his arms had gone still.

     Slowly, Groot rested the tiny form on the soft grass, smoothing the grimace of pain away and arranging his paws and wrapping his tail around him the way he did when he was sleeping. The white flowers that Groot had grown poked up through his fur belligerently, as if refusing to be denied their sunlight.

     Groot felt strangely calm. He had known that Rocket was dying; that was why he had carried him outside to sit in the sun. Even if he couldn’t grow his friend back to life, he could give him a beautiful last hour.

     Carefully, Groot dug the fingers of one hand into the earth by Rocket’s head, letting the branches split and grow, rooting themselves in the soil and stretching up and around the little body. In moments Rocket was completely encased in a cocoon of sturdy branches.

     Groot admired his handiwork, tilting his head to the side critically and occasionally adding an extra branch or leaf where it was needed. Finally, he drew upright and carefully grasped his arm above the wrist and _pulled._ He pulled harder than he ever had before, squeezing his eyes shut from the pain but refusing to stop the relentless pressure. He felt his branches crack and break – hideously loud - the tendrils splintering away and tearing apart until with a final heave his arm ripped off and only his branched hand was left wrapped around Rocket.

     For a moment, Groot stared at the stump of his wrist. Already, small tendrils were poking out, ready to re-grow into a new hand. But he didn’t want a hand. He wanted Rocket.

     Groot bent over to rest his head against the ground, his face brushing against the leaves of the cocoon. There was nothing in the galaxy that could bring Rocket back and if he didn’t say goodbye now, he wasn’t sure if would ever be able to. It was physically painful to say the words he had prepared; so painful in fact, that he had only said them once before when he had believed that he was about to die. Ignoring his tortured throat, he opened his mouth and carefully and deliberately said,

     “We are Groot.”


End file.
